All of the Boys and All of the Girls
by Mummyluvr
Summary: When the war ended, Dean discovered love. She may have made some questionable choices after that. Mainly, the whole “she” thing. Dean/Cas.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** All of the Boys and All of the Girls (Can't You See What I See?)

**Summary:** When the war ended, Dean discovered love. She may have made some questionable choices after that. Mainly, the whole "she" thing. Dean/Cas.

**Rating:** R for language

**Chapters: **11 (plus epilogue)

**A/N:** I honestly don't know where this came from. But it was persistent. It wouldn't stop nagging until I finally finished it. It's cracked-out, though. Long-ass title from "If U Seek Amy" by Britney Spears (yeah, I know. Just don't ask, ok?).

**Warnings:** Genderswap, language, and flashbacks in italics (some people don't like those).

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the song that the title is derived from, nor do I own the characters created by one Mr. Eric Kripke.

* * *

All of the Boys and All of the Girls (Can't You See What I See?)

Two things happened when the war ended. Sam ran, and Dean realized that he was in love. He wasn't sure which one scared him more, the fact that Sam had finally realized that he'd been in the wrong all along and dealt with it by leaving, or the fact that he himself was head-over-heels.

It was most likely the latter. After all, he couldn't really blame Sam. The kid had been mind-fucked, had been tricked into doing all sorts of shit he wouldn't have under normal circumstances. And it wasn't really his fault. It was Dean's, what with the dying and going to Hell and all.

So he was happy that Sam had finally figured it out. A little pissed that it had taken Ruby pointing the Colt at his chest to get it, but whatever. Sam had pulled his own little trick and the gun was in his hands and Ruby was dead and that was it. The end. Crisis averted. Ruby and Sam had been the demons' last chance. With Lilith dying on the battlefield, Sam's revelation, and Ruby's death, it was done.

And then Sam had run. Had celebrated their victory with him at the bar, and been gone in the morning. Never to be heard from again.

It was that night when Dean had his own little revelation. The whole love-thing. And that was the straw that broke the camel's back. Sam leaving and Dean alone and the sense of _presence_ in the room. It had brought him down and made him break. Alone but not alone in the motel room with two beds, he'd cried.

He'd cried and he'd sobbed, and then there was a hand on his back and a comforting weight on the mattress, and he'd _known._

He'd known, and that knowledge had broken him down farther, made him scream. Because it was impossible. It was wrong. A one-way ticket to Hell. And it figured, he supposed. He'd actually gotten to thinking that things would be better once the war was over, had thought that maybe he'd even get something for his services. Like getting pulled from the Pit hadn't been enough.

Hell, he'd even started thinking about what he'd ask for. A house, maybe. Safe and protected from evil. Always fully stocked. Because these guys could do fucking _anything_. Had pulled the most pathetic gutter-soul from Hell. So he'd figured pulling a Martha Stewart couldn't be that hard.

The hand had circled on his back, and then the other one was on him, fingers grazing his forehead, and everything had gone dark and quiet.

Dean had had a lot of time to think since that night. A lot of time alone. So much time alone, just sitting and staring at the empty bed, at Sam's forgotten cell lying on the dresser, at anything but his own selfish reflection.

He may be going back to Hell for his revelation, but he wasn't dragging anyone else down with him.

When the angel finally showed up again, Dean decided to make that fact clear. "Stay away from me."

"Dean-"

"Get out."

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, I don't know," Dean shrugged. "My brother's gone, for one. I don't even know where to start looking. And you," he gestured vaguely. "You just pop up whenever the hell you feel like it, right? Why are you even still here? Shouldn't you be up on a cloud celebrating, or something?"

"I was worried about you."

He felt his heart flutter a bit at that, felt memories of small compassions that he hadn't even noticed for the war raging around them come back so suddenly it hurt. "Don't worry. I'm fine."

"You're not fine," Castiel said. "You're conflicted."

"What do you care?"

"I care." He looked up to meet the angel's eyes. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I'm not going back."

"Nobody said you were."

"Not yet." Dean sighed. "Just leave. Go home, or wherever. I'll clean up your mess."

"You're hiding something." That familiar tilt of the head, the feeling that those eyes could see through him, and the realization that _this was it._ The moment that would break him. The moment that would send him tumbling back into Perdition because he couldn't control his thoughts or his impulses or whatever the hell had brought him here. Had made him _want_.

"It's not my fault," he muttered, knowing it was a lousy defense. But it was true. He'd just had too much time to think, too much time alone, and the memories came back. Getting pulled, being comforted, being saved, being _forgiven_. And he hadn't asked for any of it. He never asked for anything. It was just there, amidst all the distraction of Seals and Lilith and demon blood and dicks with wings. All muddled up and confused until he had a minute to himself to stop and think and then - _oh._

Would you look at that? Compassion and forgiveness and warmth and maybe he'd started to think he'd actually deserved something. Not a guardian angel, but a friend, at least. Someone good to rub off on him. Someone to clean the gaping holes and make him all shiny and new. Someone who saw him as worthy of something. Anything.

God help him, someone who loved him.

And that was when the shit hit the fan. Because there wasn't love there. There wasn't even friendship. There was manipulation and a constant threat and fear.

Somehow, though, in his messed-up mind, Dean had taken that and made it seem good. Seem pleasurable. Happy. Maybe it was forty years of Hell, thirty years of torture, that made the consistency of their working relationship seem like something he should want. It was twisted and wrong and his heart still beat a little faster when he heard the fluttering of wings, so he was screwed.

He was screwed because he didn't even have a good idea _why_ he was screwed. He'd just latched onto the good feeling that he sometimes got when the angel was around and then-

"Dean?"

He snapped out of whatever the hell that had been, and looked at the angel. "Cas?"

"Are you ok?"

"I told you, I'm fine. Now go."

"You're not fine. Your heart is beating erratically and you're sweating and your breathing has become rather shallow. What's wrong?"

"It's nothing. Just go back to Heaven and leave me the hell alone."

"Just tell me what you're scared of."

He dared to take a step closer. "I'm not scared of anything."

"I'm not leaving until I know."

Dean just gaped. He knew he was gaping because he felt his jaw drop and his eyes widen. What was that, the angel equivalent of _you can't make me_? No. "No."

"It can't be that bad."

He laughed. He laughed and something in his head disconnected because the next words out of his mouth were, "_can't be that bad_? I fucking _love_ you."

And there it was, kiddies. Out in the open and hanging in the air. A death sentence. But Dean chose to look at the bright side. The side where more time in Hell meant a second chance to hold out, to not break, to finally do something right.

"Is that all?"

He was gaping again. "What?"

Castiel shook his head, a look of bemusement written plainly on his face. "Is that all?" he repeated. "Dean-"

"No. Ok, no. I'm not going to Hell with you laughing at me."

"You're not going to Hell."

"And why the hell not?"

"Because you haven't done anything wrong."

"Haven't done…? Ok, you must have missed my little declaration of love. For an angel. A _guy_ angel."

"There's nothing wrong with loving someone, Dean."

And that right there struck him mute. Dumbfounded. Because Dean Winchester didn't get what he wanted, even if he hadn't exactly been aware that he'd wanted it. Not ever.

There was something warm inside him, though, something that he would have probably identified as hope if he'd ever really had time to dissect the feeling before. He liked it. Hell, he _loved_ it, and he kind of wanted it to stay.

The feeling that maybe the way Cas refused to even blink meant that he'd maybe known all along and maybe the feeling was mutual, and maybe Dean could persuade him into whipping up that house he'd been thinking about and maybe they could live happily ever after. Yeah. And maybe monkeys were going to start flying out of both their asses.

But, you know, couldn't hurt to try, right?

"Does that mean what I think it means?" Dean asked, voice a little shakier than he might have liked.

"No."

Of course. Because people like him, people who tortured and burnt and hoped couldn't possibly be loved or happy or, fuck, anything but miserable.

"That doesn't mean that the feeling is not mutual."

There was that damned warmth again, all bubbly and excited and making him fucking smile. "You love me?"

A single bob of the head, a stoic expression, but Castiel looked sincere. "I do."

"Why?"

The angel shrugged. "I don't know. Do you know why you feel this way?"

Dean snorted. Oh, he knew. He knew because he'd spent time dissecting it, had spent time thinking about it, worrying about it, convincing himself he was hellbound. He sighed. "Were you ever planning on telling me?"

"What good would it do?"

He shrugged. "I woulda liked to know." And that was the truth. He would have. With Sam running off with Ruby all the time, and people threatening them all with Hell, and the world coming to an end, it would have been nice to know. To have someone care, just a little. "So what do we do about it?"

"Nothing."

"Because that makes perfect sense."

"It's a sin."

"I thought you said there wasn't anything wrong with loving somebody."

"The sin is not so much in the thought, as in the action," Castiel clarified.

"Well, we don't have to do anything. You could just stay-"

"The temptation would be too great."

"You managed not to get your wings clipped so far."

"There was a war," Castiel said. "Distraction. That's done now."

"There's gotta be some way." Oh, did he ever hate the way his voice sounded. All whiny and pathetic.

The angel just stared at him, eyes boring into him before finally turning away. He was hiding something.

"There is, isn't there?" Dean said. "You know something. Some way to avoid the whole sin-thing."

"They aren't preferable."

"More than one? All right, well, run 'em by me."

He sighed. "I can't stay with you. Not like this."

"Like this?" Dean asked. He got only a stare in return, long and hard and begging him to understand without words, and he was starting to wonder where those emotionless marble statues Anna had bitched about had gone. Because this guy definitely felt feelings, despite the fact that he didn't ever really show it. So Anna had lied. Anna, who had seen the best of both worlds, human and angel, who had Fallen, and-

"No."

Castiel looked relieved. So Dean had gotten it right in one. Wonderful. "You said there was another way. Maybe one that doesn't involve the proverbial trip to Candy Mountain?"

The angel just looked at him.

"Ripping out your angel kidney?"

Blank stare.

"Never mind. Just lay it on me."

Castiel sighed again. "It's not something I would have suggested otherwise, just know that."

"Ok, but, dude. If there's a way around this…"

"The Bible states that men shall not lie together."

"Uh huh."

"So…"

"Spit it out, Cas."

That stare again. Not blank this time. Full of… something. Fear, maybe? Regret? Caution? Hope? Like Dean was supposed to get anything out of _that_.

But then he put the words with the look and it clicked somehow. Everything fell into place and he stared right back at the angel, daring him to finish what he'd started. "That even possible, Cas?"

"All things are possible through the Lord."

"You're talking about a supernatural sex change."

"Which is why I would have let it drop."

Dean blinked. Was that _slang?_ Did he just hear..?

"Dean?"

He forced himself to focus. "Yeah?"

Wide eyes met his. "This is why I didn't tell you. I wasn't willing to put you through that."

"Me? What about you, Mr. All-things-are-possible-through-God?"

Castiel glanced down, fingering the lapels of his coat. "This body is not mine."

"The guy's still in there?" Because that would have been the real kicker. Loving an angel and raping an innocent man all at once. Bonus Hell points.

"No. Thomas has moved on."

"Then why-"

"Because it's not mine. I would not insult his memory by radically changing what he willingly sacrificed."

"Oh." When he thought about it, Dean supposed it made sense, but… "You're asking me to… you actually want me to…?"

"I'm not going to force you, Dean. It is your choice. Think about it." And with that, the angel was gone.

With a sigh, Dean fell back onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. Dude. _Dude._ No fucking way.

-.-

Dean was asleep when Castiel arrived. He was smiling slightly, his body and face relaxed, finally at peace. He seemed so fragile in that moment, so human. A mass of flesh and blood and contradictions. So small, and yet large for his kind. Weak, but still strong. Willing to carry the weight of the world, and never expecting anything in return.

He was special, this human. He cared. He didn't care because he believed he would be rewarded for it after death, as so many people did. He simply cared because it was the right thing to do. He fought, not for vengeance, but to save people. There were very few hunters without a vendetta.

Dean didn't see that, though. He didn't see the safe, happy people he left behind. He didn't see the good he'd done. He only saw the evil. The Seal that he'd unwittingly broken, the demons he'd created while under Alistair's care, the people he'd been unable to save.

He blamed himself, and that was why Castiel loved him. He cared for everyone but himself, and that was a great injustice. It had to be corrected.

That, coupled with the way he'd found the man in Hell, his eyes crazed and already darkening, a silent litany of _I'msorrysosorrypleaseI'msorry_ cascading from chapped, broken, and bloody lips as he sliced and shredded and carved.

Becoming what he'd fought, he still held his humanity. The very essence of his being.

_All his fault._

Castiel loved him because of that, because of his faith in people, his faith in everyone but himself. Castiel loved him because he now had that same faith. Where he'd once seen savages, creatures capable of doing inhuman things to each other, he now saw art, beautiful paintings of life and vibrancy. He saw what Dean had always seen, simply because Dean had seen it.

Had seen _it_, but had never seen himself. Because Dean didn't believe himself to be worthy. Because he gave and gave and gave, until he had nothing left to give. That was when he gave more. Gave until he was running on empty, and Castiel could only ever hope to be like that, so selfless.

He hadn't reached that goal, obviously. He was asking Dean to give up his identity, was going to take the way he looked and twist it, change it, make it different.

And Dean never questioned. Only considered. Only begged Castiel not to give up what made _him,_ him. Offered to do anything to keep what few shreds of companionship he had left.

Castiel knew that if he truly loved the hunter, he would have Fallen, would have ripped himself apart in an effort to get to Dean, to make him understand.

He also knew that if he took that route, Dean would simply blame himself.

So he'd offered another way, and now he would wait for Dean to rise. He would wait for his decision. Would wait to see just how hopeless life, Hell, and the war had left the hunter.

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So, uh... yeah. That's chapter 1. Reviews are always welcome, and thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Six Months Later**

Sam Winchester pushed the door open and walked into the bar. It was the kind of place that reminded him of home, of late nights getting drunk with his brother, of cheap beer and cheaper girls. He'd missed it.

He'd missed a lot of things, actually.

Wasn't like he'd had much of a choice, though, being more of a cause of the Apocalypse than Dean. Being so deeply entangled, having his head so far in the sand that he couldn't see the violent shit storm whirling around him. Not until it was too late. Not until Ruby had a gun pointed at his chest and the ground shook and Lucifer was so _close_. Not until the absolute last minute.

And just when he'd started to feel better about himself, just when Dean had gotten him convinced that anyone would have fallen for Ruby's act, things had gotten worse.

Then he'd just felt like a stupid ass, had been so ashamed, so hurt, had felt so pathetic that his only choice was to run. To get away. To leave Dean to his thoughts.

Six months later, and here he was, in some seedy dive, with the familiar first notes of "You Shook Me All Night Long" wafting through the smoky air.

Someone whistled. Heads were turning. Boots were stomping in time to the beat. He looked up at the bar to see a girl standing on the scuffed wooden countertop, doing a solo Coyote Ugly in a simple black tank top, faded jeans, and biker boots.

She bent down toward one of the patrons and pulled a proffered twenty from his hand, winking back at the man as she sauntered along the top of the bar and shoved the money down into her shirt, hips swaying to the beat. Shortish blonde hair whipped around as she turned, green eyes flashing as she reached for more cash, the flush in her cheeks almost masking a small spattering of freckles.

She was good dancer, but an even better con. Sam had her pegged for a hunter in an instant. She fit the mold. Rock music, old clothes, and the same glint that Dean had in his eyes every time he found himself a mark.

She spun again, looking out over the bar, and froze. Her eyes locked onto Sam's as her face went slack and she paled. She hopped from the bar and ran down a back hall, toward the bathroom, the sound of booing echoing after her as she went.

Suddenly suspicious, Sam began pushing through the crowd, trying to follow. An elbow connected firmly with his side and he glared at the man who had pushed him. Dark hair, blue eyes. So familiar that Sam actually had to stop and think about where he might have seen him before.

But then the moment of shock was gone, and he was running after the mystery man clad in ratty jeans and a leather jacket. Another hunter, maybe? A pair? So why run?

Unless they knew. Unless they'd heard the stories, seen his face. Maybe they'd even been there. Maybe he was being led straight into a trap.

He stopped in the middle of the hallway, breathing hard, trying to control his racing thoughts. No. No, there hadn't been anyone there at the end but himself, Ruby, Dean, and Castiel.

_Castiel._

The angel with the dark hair and the blue eyes. They man that had elbowed him to get to the girl with the freckles and the badass attitude.

_Holy shit._

Sam realized who the pair was a split second before he heard the sound of flapping wings coming from the men's room.

-.-

"He's still alive," Dean muttered, smiling slightly as she threw everything she owned into her duffle bag, glaring at Cas until he began doing the same. "He's still alive."

"Then why are we running?"

Dean stopped and turned to face him. "He's not gonna understand."

"_I_ don't understand."

She smirked. "Wouldn't expect you to, featherhead." She reached up and ruffled his hair, leaning in for a short kiss. "Just pack your crap. We should head home."

_Home_. The word still made her smile. Just thinking about the little cabin by the lake, the place she hadn't even had to ask for. A birthday gift. The first one she'd gotten since the age of seven.

And it was so much better than that crappy convenience store keychain Dad had picked up between hunts and handed over in mid-March with a mumbled apology.

Just a place out in the woods, small and safe and _theirs_. Left abandoned for years until Cas had stumbled across it, fixed it up for them. For _her_. Because she was, now and forever, a her. The decision made as warm fingers had slipped around her, even though it was dangerous. Permanency being nine-tenths, or something.

But they had a house. A home. A nice little place that they didn't _exactly_ own, but got to keep, anyway. And she'd never been happier that she had made him keep his wings, selfish as it was.

They were going home. Hunting was hunting, and hustling was hustling, and big blue puppy-dog eyes and Jedi mind tricks might have gotten them some spending cash and free food when they needed it, but she was tired.

Besides, Sam knew they were there. Sam, who hadn't showed in half a year, who had left so suddenly, had found them. And she wondered why he'd been looking when he could have just called, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that they'd been found, and Dean did not want her brother to see her like this.

A girl.

A woman. Small and helpless and weak even though she could kick Cas' ass six ways to Sunday. Not like that was a difficult thing to do, mind you. Guy was really more of a guardian than a warrior.

_Her_ guardian. The one to whisk her out of Hell back when she'd still been a he. The one to take her from the bar when Sammy got too close.

She threw her bag on the bed and watched the angel run around packing, trying to catch up.

He finished and tossed his bag next to hers, turning to face her, still looking far too small in her old jacket, torn jeans, ratty shirt. "You think he'll judge you."

Not a question. Not telepathy, either. Six months together, and the guy just knew her.

"He won't understand. He won't get it. He thinks I'm straight."

Castiel smiled and took her hands in his. "Technically, you are."

She opened her mouth to respond when a fist pounded hard on the door. "He found us."

"You don't know that."

But she did. The bar had been less than a block away, the Impala was parked in front of their room, and Sam wasn't an idiot. "Get us outta here, Cas."

The doorknob rattled, something shaking in the keyhole as Sam attempted to pick the lock.

"Now!"

The door opened and Sam stood there, staring at them, their bodies pressed together as Cas pulled her in closer, arms wrapping around her. _Protection_.

"Hiya, Sammy," she whispered. "Long time, no see."


	3. Chapter 3

Ok, so I almost didn't post today because I'm really busy and Charlie the Unicorn 3 just came out and so I've been working on that and... phew. Here's chapter three for you anyway. Please enjoy!

* * *

Sam couldn't believe what he was seeing. His brother, about a foot shorter and a tad bit more feminine, wrapped in the arms of a motherfucking angel. It was like some twisted Sarah McLachlan song.

Dean blinked at him, worrying his lower lip. "You all right there, Sammy?"

"I don't believe it," he muttered, his eyes flicking between the two of them. "I don't… how?"

Dean looked up at the angel - _up_! - before turning back to Sam. "Kind of a long story."

Sam closed the door and leaned up against it, trying to look casual even as his knees threatened to give out. Because it just wasn't possible. Not Dean. Not wrapped in the arms of the thing that had pulled him out of Hell. Not like this.

"I, uh, I don't have anywhere to be," he said, hoping that the shock of finding his brother, especially like this, wasn't showing on his face.

Dean nodded. "All right." He turned back to Castiel and flashed a weak smile. "Babe?"

Sam felt his eyes go wide. He wasn't sure what he'd thought was going on after walking in on the scene that he'd found, but it hadn't had anything to do with the word _babe_. Because that implied… and that meant… and he so totally wasn't going to go there.

"You wanna go get us something to eat?" Dean finished. "I saw a diner down the road when we pulled into town. Should have some good stuff in it."

"Burger and fries?" the angel asked, as if Dean asking him to run out and fetch dinner was completely normal.

"Works for me. Just get Sammy a salad or something."

Cas nodded and slowly pulled his arms from Sam's brother. "You're sure?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure." He leaned up unto his tiptoes and planted a soft kiss on the angel's lips. "Hurry back, all right?"

Castiel pulled away and smiled - something Sam could never remember seeing him do before. "I always do." He stalked to the door, throwing Sam a murderous glare as the hunter stepped to the side to let him pass. "What do you want to drink?" he asked, turning to look back at Dean with his hand on the doorknob.

"Sierra Mist." Dean muttered, crossing his hands over his chest. "And pie. Gimme some pie."

With another smile, Cas left the room.

Sam turned to gape at his brother. "Sierra Mist? Thought you'd be breakin' out the whiskey for this one, way you ran outta the bar."

He shrugged. "I'm uh, I'm not really drinking at the moment."

"Not sure if you can handle it any more?"

Another shrug. "Just don't want to." He moved to the bed and sat down beside two duffle bags. "You caught us in the middle of packing, Sammy."

That was the fourth time he'd been called 'Sammy' since walking through the door. Something was up. He sat on the bed next to his brother. "One bed?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Got a problem with that?"

Sam sighed and shook his head. "You and the angel? Really?"

"Crazy, huh?"

"Crazy doesn't even begin to cover it. What happened to you?"

Dean averted his eyes, choosing to stare at the peeling wallpaper instead of his own brother. "You left. You scribbled out a two word note and just disappeared. What was I supposed to do?"

"Move on, Dean."

"I didn't even know why you did it."

"I did it because it was all my fault." Beside him, Dean scoffed. "I'm serious, man." A choke of laughter. "If it wasn't for me, they wouldn't have gotten so close. If I hadn't played right into Ruby's hand… if she had killed me, that would have been the end. Apocalypse now. Everything Azazel left to me would have been hers, and it almost happened because I trusted her."

"But you killed her," Dean pointed out. "You killed her and I did my thing and it's over. It wasn't your fault. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine. Wouldn't have happened if I hadn't broken down there."

"They used me."

"Me, too. Join the club."

Sam scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed again. "I'm sorry."

"No biggie."

"Dean, you're a chick."

His brother shrugged. "Coulda been worse."

"How could it possibly be worse than this?"

"Coulda been alone."

"Is that why he's here?" Sam asked. "Because you didn't want to be alone? What did you do to make him stay?"

"Nothing, Sam. I told you, it's complicated."

"Well, uncomplicate it."

"You left," Dean repeated. "The war was over, and everyone was gone, and I finally got to think, I guess. About everything. And when I really thought about it, without the war and the demons and all that other crap to distract me, I… I dunno. I guess I just figured out that things were different."

"Different how?"

Dean finally turned back to look at him. "I kinda figured out I was in love."

"With who?"

The older man shot him a look that clearly meant he was as stupid as he looked. "The angel."

Sam blinked. "The angel? Castiel? The _guy_ angel?"

"No, the curvy one. Yes, Sam. Had you not figured that out?"

This time, Sam was the one to avert his eyes. "I just… that doesn't seem like you."

"Lot changed." He glanced down at himself and chuckled, the sound coming out as more of giggle in his higher register. "_I_ changed."

"Obviously. So what was it? Curse? Spell? You touch something you really shouldn't have?"

"It was Cas, actually."

"The angel?"

"Yes, Sam. We've established that. See, I told him. I told him what was going on, and he told me… said he loved me, too, or some shit like that. Then he said he couldn't stay unless he Fell, and I wasn't gonna let him do that. Not for me."

"So he did _this?_ What is he, nuts? Dean-"

"It was my choice. He couldn't go against the Bible or something, so I had to. I wanted to."

"So, what?" Sam asked. "You just jumped right into this without thinking? What if you hadn't really loved him, Dean? What if…" He trailed off. What if it really was all his fault? What if Dean had made a mistake and it was all because little brother wasn't there to talk him out of it? What if the whole mess was his own doing?

"I thought about it," Dean said. "I thought about it a lot…"

-.-

_It was late, and Dean couldn't get to sleep. Even with the crappy AC going full-blast, it was too quiet. Too empty. He was so used to Sammy snoring, or the soft rustling of wings announcing the presence of someone who would sit and just _breathe. _A sense of presence. That was what he was missing._

_He couldn't sleep, so he thought. About the day, about the world. About genitalia. You know, the important things in life._

_He thought about warmth, something he hadn't really felt since long before Hell. And he thought about Hell, about claws and daggers and torture and blood. About the demons with the tattered remnants of what had once been beautiful wings. The way their eyes had glowed in the firelight as Alistair let them play with him. The way they had shrunk back from the blinding light that had filled his little corner of Hell, the last thing he remembered from his time down below._

_He didn't want Cas to be like them. The angel didn't deserve it. He'd fought in the war, had helped to win it, had given Dean faith when everything had fallen apart. _

_No, Dean wouldn't do that._

_But he couldn't do the other thing, either. The thing that was _possible through the Lord. _The thing that would involve giving up everything he'd worked so hard to build, an image of muscle and strength and solidarity. The thing that would make him small and weak and vulnerable._

_But he'd still have an angel, perched on his shoulder and ready to save him. Ready to love him. To let him hope and dream and never be afraid of the dark night or the lonely abyss again. To stay because he wanted to, and not just because Dean was willing to give up a part of himself._

_Love. Dark eyes and deep voice and repetitions of _not your fault, I have faith in you, don't give up_._ _Things no one had ever said to him before. Things that Sam and Dad thought were understood, but weren't. Couldn't be, the way they kept running._

_He sighed. Was it really worth it? The weakness and the change and everything. Did he really need to have someone with him 24/7? Was he really that pathetic?_

_The answer, obviously, was yes. Always had been. He was only happy if he had someone to please, someone who would smile and tell him he'd done a good job. He'd figured that out as soon as they'd stopped, and that had just made him quest for it more. To give up everything that made him, _him _for Sam. To train harder to be better for dad. To fight a freakin' holy war for a guy that claimed to be an angel._

_Just because he thought they might like him if he did. Just because, in those few moments of success, he was perfect in their eyes._

_The moments always passed, though, and the happiness faded and he was left cold and alone._

_Until today. Until an angel appeared before him and declared love, even though he'd long-ago congratulated Dean for their win. There hadn't been a reason to love him, not that Dean could find, anyway. Yet, there he'd been. Dressed like he'd just come from a meeting of the Angel Mafia and promising happiness if Dean would just give up _one more thing.

_That one more thing was his dick, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that._

_He was sure about Cas, though. Sure that wary trust had evolved into friendship had evolved into love. Love was going to have to revert back to trust for the moment, though, because there was no guarantee the guy was telling the truth, no guarantee it wasn't a trick, that he wouldn't work his mojo and then leave Dean high and dry and not a guy._

_Still, the idea of a sort of happily ever after appealed, and Dean couldn't argue with the warmth that curled through his body as he finally made up his mind. Someone who would be there forever, who couldn't die. Someone who had never lied to him, at least not directly. Someone he loved, who claimed to love him in return._

_Yeah, he could live with that. Maybe it was even that reward he'd been thinking about, just wrapped up in a different package. Still a home, just one that was alive, was breathing, could love him. A warm, safe place, strong and steady._

_He sighed, breath disappearing into the darkness. Boobs weren't so bad. He enjoyed them. With luck, Cas would, too._

-.-

_Dean woke up without realizing he'd even been asleep. He smiled when he saw the angel sitting at the table._

_"Cas."_

_The angel smiled at him - _really _smiled - for what he thought had to be the first time. And it made him happy. Made his heart beat a little faster. Because he'd made the angel happy. He'd done something - whatever it my have been - that made someone else happy._

_"You came back." Because he honestly hadn't expected to see Castiel again. Ever. Like mom, like dad, like Sam. Cassie and Anna and Lisa and Ellen and Jo and everyone else he'd every cared for. Gone with the wind._

_"If you need more time-"_

_Dean grinned. He didn't need more time. He was tired of waiting for things to just come to him. They never did. He was going to reach out and actively _take _this time. "I'm ready."_

_Cas nodded, a slow, jerky movement, as if he suddenly wasn't so sure of himself. "What did you decide?"_

_Dean felt himself smiling again. "I'll do it."_

_Castiel blinked. "What?"_

_The hunter nodded. "I'll do it. I wanna do it. If… if you'll stay, I'll do it. But you can't leave." He cast his eyes down toward his lap, the fingers that pulled at each other, warring. He had to make sure, had to know that it was real and not just another dirty trick in a long life of dirty tricks. He had to know that someone loved him enough to stay after he sacrificed something big. "You can't leave me like that."_

_Blue eyes flooded with emotion he'd once been told they couldn't possibly possess. Like Cas knew. Like he knew and he cared and he understood. Like he really meant what he said when he said it. Like he was shocked Dean would even think that there were strings attached._

_"You think you don't deserve it?"_

_The words were so familiar, and Dean hadn't been able to answer the first time, but now he would. Now he could. Because the angel _knew. _Knew_ everything.

_"I don't," he said. "Deserve it, I mean. I know that, and I'm just waiting for you to figure it out, too."_

_Cas sighed and moved to sit beside Dean on the bed. He reached out and took the hunter's hand in his own. It seemed odd, coming from him. A soft touch, hesitant, as if he wasn't sure exactly what he was doing._

_Dean tightened his fingers around the angel's hand, thumb rubbing circles over warm skin, showing him how it was done._

_Castiel smiled. "After more than a year of watching you, you think I wouldn't have figured out if I liked you?"_

_"But do you want to do this?" Because he had to ask. Those damn voices in his head, the ones that hated him, spoke in his father's voice, his brother tone, just wouldn't shut up until he was sure. "Or is someone making you? Because, I swear, if this is some kinda messed-up reward…"_

_The angel's smile widened. "You were expecting a reward?"_

_"No. I mean… maybe. But-"_

_"What did you want?"_

_Dean stared at him. That was unexpected. "House."_

_Cas tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. "Hugh Laurie?"_

_He couldn't help but laugh at that. It just seemed so out of character. Maybe he was actually rubbing off on the guy. "Dude," he chuckled. "Did you just make a joke?"_

_The angel shrugged. "You said-"_

_"_A _house, Cas."_

_He squeezed Dean's hand a little tighter. "_A _house." He sighed. "That sounds nice."_

_"You mean it? You're not just saying it to get in my pants?"_

_"I mean it." He stared at the hunter and licked his lips. Something flashed across his eyes, want and restraint fighting an epic battle inside a small, borrowed body. "Are _you _sure?"_

_And that was the million-dollar question, wasn't it? "Sure as I'll ever be. But-"_

_"I won't leave."_

_He nodded, that same old warmth rising up in his chest again. "Let's do this thing."_

_Slowly, Castiel stood, untangling their fingers. "Lay back on the bed."_

_"Is this gonna hurt?"_

_"It shouldn't._

_"And… I'll still be me?"_

_He smiled. "Yes, Dean. You'll still be you."_

_"Oh." He couldn't help the disappointment that crept into his voice, the slight hint of fear. He'd known it had been a long-shot, but he'd almost hoped that he could start over, just do everything again. Live his life as a chick and change the things that needed changing, meet up with Cas in time, and just go from there. He'd wanted to be different. Like in the office. Someone people liked. Someone who got what he wanted, got praised and rewarded. Someone who had friends._

_"Close your eyes." Dean did as he was told, snapping himself out of his thoughts. Cas would still be there. Cas wouldn't leave him. Cas loved him because… well, just because, he supposed. "Relax." He forced the tension from his body, breathing deeply. Castiel brushed a hand over his forehead. "Sleep."_

_Dean's world went dark._


	4. Chapter 4

"I can't believe he'd just do that to you," Sam said. "I can't believe you'd _let_ him do that to you."

"Didn't have much of a choice, Sammy. It was him or nothing. And I do love the guy."

Sam shook his head. "And you were fine with that? You went to sleep as a guy, woke up as a girl, and just kept working like nothing had happened?"

"It took some getting used to, but it's not like I was alone in this. I mean, he's really great, Sam. You should have been there."

-.-

_When Dean finally blinked his eyes open again, it was to find that he'd been asleep for a full day. That angel mojo, man. It'll knock you out._

_Groaning softly, he pushed himself up, the room spinning around him for a moment before he regained his composure. Castiel was sitting on a chair by the door, two plastic bags at his feet._

_Dean reached up to run a hand through his hair, stopping short as soon as slender fingers reached his head. "Holy shit." He felt his eyes bug. "Holy _shit._"_

_That was when it all came rushing back, in startling clarity, the events of the days before running through his mind in fastforward. Swallowing hard, he looked down at himself._

_"Holy shit."_

_Yep. Definitely boobs. And a higher pitch to his voice. Slender waist, wider hips, smaller shoulders. Longer hair, dark blonde and falling down into his face as he turned back to the angel. "Cas?"_

_Dark eyes bored into his own. "You have a month. A probationary period. If you decide it's too much, you can go back."_

_"And if I don't?" A small hand strayed to his throat, clutching smooth skin, his own voice still foreign to his ears._

_"It's permanent."_

_Dean nodded and pushed his hair from his face. He shoved the ratty motel covers away and stood, staring down at himself again. Loose t-shirt, too-big boxers, legs that obviously needed to be shaved._

_Slowly, he walked to the mirror that hung on the wall, nearly stumbling over his own feet in the process. He stared into the glass and saw wide green eyes, hair that barely spilled over slender shoulders, a short, small body, freckles standing out strong on a pale face._

_He saw a chick. A thirty-some-year-old woman with plump lips and long lashes and a shaking frame. He saw someone who hadn't exactly known what she was getting into until she'd woken up with a vagina._

_He looked back at Castiel, who had moved silently from the chair to the bed, and was busy unpacking the two bags, laying clothes out over the comforter. Girl clothes. Small black shirts and a tiny leather jacket and a narrow pair of jeans. Small shoes. Small socks. Everything looking so small even though he was sure they'd fit. Knew it in the same way that he knew he was going to be ok._

_Because his angel had gone to Wal-Mart for him, had thought enough to provide, to give him something other than a closing door and a turned back, a hastily scribbled note on motel stationary._

_He was going to be ok._

They _were going to be ok._

-.-

"So, what? You lived happily ever after?"

"Not exactly," Dean muttered. "See, that one month probationary thing? That was kinda for him, too."

-.-

_Dean walked out of the bathroom wearing new clothes that fit him perfectly. Cas had known what he was doing._

_"We can go get you something more later," the angel said. "Something you like."_

_Dean glanced down at what he was wearing. "This is fine, man. So, I've got one month, huh?"_

_Cas nodded. "If you change your mind-"_

_He walked up to the angel, getting into his personal space, and… ok. That was different. He looked _up_ into blue eyes. Because he was short. Really fucking short._

_He shook his head. He'd deal with his new height later. There were more important things he could be doing, things he'd been wanting to do for a couple of days, actually. Things like running slim hands over his angel's chest and pulling him in for their first kiss._

_"I won't change my mind," he whispered as his wrapped his fingers around the back of Castiel's neck and pulled him in close._

_The angel stopped him. Held out a hand, pressed it lightly against Dean's chest - right between his two new appendages - and pushed. Pushed him away. After everything, Cas was pushing him away._

_He stumbled back easily - his center of gravity off, his balance a bit wobbly in his new form - and stared up at the angel with wide eyes. He'd been right. About everything. The fucking thing had used him to stop the Apocalypse, and now he was just laughing in Dean's face. Taking away the only thing he'd had left and promising something good in return. Only he didn't deliver._

_He was worse than the damn demon Dean had dealt with. At least she made good on her promise._

_"I can't," Castiel said, casting his eyes down, having the sense to at least look ashamed. "I'm sorry. It's not real yet. It's forbidden. I can't. I need to be sure…"_

_"You think I'll change my mind?"_

_He shrugged. "It's a possibility."_

_"I won't. Cas," he took a step, closing the gap that had formed between them, "I told you…" But he stopped there. Because he wouldn't say it again, not after being pushed away, not after being met with such uncertainty. He couldn't risk it. "I _told_ you."_

_"Better safe than sorry," Castiel said, turning away from him and crossing the room._

_Dean sighed, his shoulders slumping under the weight of having to delay getting what he wanted. But it was only one month. He could deal._

-.-

Dean sighed, refusing to look up at Sam. Her brother stared blankly ahead, at the peeling wallpaper, at the busted TV, at anything but her.

"So I guess you made it."

"Yeah," she said, smiling slightly. "We did. Looking back now, I can't believe I was so worried. Can't believe I thought he was lying." She finally turned to him. "They can't lie. You know that? Like, they have to tell the truth, or something. They can be vague about it, but they can't flat-out lie. It's… nice."

Sam nodded. "That's, uh, that's interesting." He met her eyes. "You really went through with it, though?"

"Obviously," Dean muttered.

"No, I mean a whole month of not being able to touch him."

"I didn't say we couldn't touch. Because we could. Just not in the Biblical sense."

-.-

_Dean was starting to regret his decision. _Majorly_. Because sex ed and whiny classmates hadn't prepared him for this. He thought he'd felt pain? He thought Hell was bad? Hell had nothing on this new monthly torture session._

_He lay on the old motel bed, curled up in a fetal position, hands snaked around his stomach. Another cramp racked through his body, spreading from his abdomen to his arms and legs, forcing out the moan he'd been trying to suppress for the better part of an hour._

_"The medicine isn't working?" Castiel asked from his spot at the table._

_Dean glared at him. He assumed that was answer enough._

_"Maybe I can help." The angel stood up and crossed the room, looking decidedly different in Dean's old clothes. The hunter had forced him to change, had gotten tired of looking at the trench coat after a straight week and a half. Now Cas spent his days in jeans and t-shirts, his nights in old sweats. It was taking some getting used to._

_A weight settled in the bed behind him, and before Dean knew it, there was a warm body pressed flush against his back._

_"Cas?"_

_"Shhh." _

_His arms were brushed lightly from his stomach and replaced by the angel's hand. It was odd, having someone else touch him after almost two weeks with no physical contact. The size of the man's hand also startled him, until he realized that it only seemed so big because he himself had gotten so small._

_The hand worked its way under his shirt, fingers spreading to radiate warmth throughout the hunter's body. He couldn't keep himself from sighing with relief. The pain was gone._

_"Won't you get in trouble?" he finally forced himself to ask. "I mean-"_

_"I trust you."_

_Dean nodded and laced his fingers together over the hand on his stomach. He leaned back into the body behind him. "I love you."_

_He felt soft lips quirk into a smile against his shoulder. "And I, you."_

_Dean didn't regret a thing._

-.-

Sam blinked. "Dude. TMI."

"Consider it payback," Dean grinned, "for walking me through your little sex scene with demon-skank-hell-spawn last year."

"Not the same," Sam muttered, shaking his head. He started looking around the room again, at the peeling wallpaper, the lumpy mattress, the cracked mirror. "So you're still hunting?"

Dean shrugged her shoulders. "More or less. We follow jobs sometimes. Had to learn how to fight again, but it wasn't too hard."

"Still scamming cards?"

"Believe it or not, the angel won't let me hustle. Weird, huh? He wins the bread."

"What do you mean?"

Dean turned and started rifling through Cas' duffle bag, pulling out a flyer with a picture of a cross on it. She handed it to her brother, who read it with steadily widening eyes.

"You're kidding," Sam said. "A _faith healer_?"

"You'd be surprised how much people are willing to donate for the real thing."

"And let me guess, you supplement the income by dancing on a pole?"

"There was a pole in that bar? Dammit. Coulda made at least another forty." She caught the look on her brother's face and grinned. "Kidding, Sammy. No pole dancing for big sister."

"You're not my sister," Sam growled, the light mood suddenly dropping from the room as Dean felt a shiver run down her spine.

"What are you talking about? Of course I am."

"You're my _brother_. And I can't believe you let him do this to you."

"Well what was I supposed to do, Sammy? Just hang around the middle of nowhere and wait for you to come back?"

"I didn't ask you to wait for me, Dean. I didn't ask you to do anything. I thought you might have, I dunno, settled down somewhere. Given all of this up. Gotten a house or a family or _something_."

"I did that, Sam. You just don't like it."

"He's not _family_, Dean. He's an angel. You remember angels? You know, the ones that used us? He's the one who started it." He shook his head and balled up the flyer in his hands. "And you don't have a home. You have run-down motel rooms. There's a difference."

"You're wrong," Dean muttered. "We've got a home."

-.-

_Dean opened the door to the cabin and peered through the darkness. "You sure about this, Cas?" she asked._

She_. Because this was the last day. Less than twelve hours before it became irreversible, before it became permanent. His life. _Her_ life._

_Castiel appeared in the doorway behind her, lugging the bags from the car. "I'm positive. You said you wanted a house."_

_"Yeah, but… can we afford it?"_

_He actually laughed at her. "We don't need to. I took care of everything."_

_Dean nodded slowly. That wasn't cryptic at all._

_She searched the wall for a lightswitch, dreading what she would find when the place was illuminated. It smelled of dust and dirt and rot. Definitely not the things she'd imagined when she'd started pondering what she would ask for if she could have anything._

_She found the switch and flicked it on, bathing the room in light. It was beautiful. Clean and fresh and homey. Warm. Fully furnished._

_"You did all this?" she asked as Cas dropped the bags inside the door._

_"Do you like it?"_

_"Are you kidding me? It's…" What the hell? She already looked like a girl, might as well sound like one, too. "It's beautiful."_

_Castiel smiled and pulled her into a hug. "It's yours."_

_"It's _ours_," Dean reminded him. "And in twelve hours, I can thank you properly for it."_

-.-

_Dean sat in the living room, her eyes glued to the clock hanging above the television, counting down the minutes._

_Cas was in bed. The only bed in the whole house. Dean had feigned sleep to sit and watch the minutes of her old life tick away. In only 120 seconds, she would forever be a she, would forever be loved, would never be left alone again. She would have a home and a family. Everything she'd ever wanted._

_With sixty seconds to go, the couch dipped, a familiar weight settling beside her._

_"Do you regret it?" Castiel asked, looping an arm around her slender shoulders._

_"Never," Dean whispered, finally turning her eyes from the clock to look at him. _

_He gently pulled stray hairs away from her face, tucking them behind her ear. "Neither do I." He leaned closer, invading her space, just like always. A character trait of the guy._

_She leaned in to meet him as the clock began to chime._

-.-

"Woah," Sam said, holding out his hands to stop his brother. "That's cool. I get it. You kissed him."

"Then I fucked him," Dean grinned. "Or, he fucked me. Either way-"

"Too much info."

The grin widened. "And still, nowhere near as disturbing as demon pussy."

"I said I was sorry, Dean. You don't have to torture me."

He shrugged. "Fine." He looked up at Sam and sighed. "So, six months. What have you been up to?"

Sam just shrugged. What could he possibly say? That he'd been sitting in motel rooms and reflecting on the state of his life? That he'd been wandering aimlessly, picking up odd jobs along the way and jacking cars to get from place to place? That it had taken him six months to even begin to forgive himself?

He looked at Dean and realized that he never should have left. If he had just found a way to work through his guilt by his brother's side, to help Dean see his own worth, this never would have happened. Dean would still be Dean, and the angel wouldn't be out fetching lunch, and-

"Sammy?"

Sam snapped himself out of his half-doze. "Sorry. What?"

"What have you been doing? Since it's apparently share-and-care time."

"Nothing much," Sam muttered. "Wandering, mostly. Did a few odd jobs, took down a couple ghosts. Thought a lot. About a lot of things. Demons and blood and Hell. You know, the typical stuff."

Dean nodded. "You couldn't have done that with me?"

"I just needed to be alone."

"Right." A tight smile crossed his brother's face as the door opened and Castiel walked back in, two bags of greasy food in his hands.

"Lunch," the angel announced, breaking the awkward silence.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam could hear them through the wall.

Yeah. That wasn't fun for him. Not at all. He pounded against on the slim partition, but the noises only got louder in response.

Sam pulled the pillow around his ears and stared at the ceiling. He didn't need to hear this, didn't need to think about what his brother was doing to the angel, or what the angel was doing to his brother.

He just wanted the nightmare to be over.

The nightmare of finding Dean dancing on a bar, long hair flying around his face as he stuffed crumpled bills into his bra. The nightmare of finding out that he was responsible for his brother effectively becoming his sister. The nightmare of not being able to change things.

He sighed. It was all a big mistake. Him even finding them had been an accident. He'd just walked into a bar. He hadn't been looking.

That was probably the worst part. The fact that he hadn't been searching, had just happened upon them. But he couldn't tell Dean. If Dean had done _this_ when Sam left, what would he do if he found out that their reunion was fluke.

And it wasn't like Sam hadn't missed him - because he had. He just hadn't been ready to go back, to find Dean, to keep hunting full-time. He hadn't been ready to face what he really was, or what he had almost been.

He hadn't wanted to face the fact that for a whole year he'd thought Dean was weak, when _he_ was the one being led into a trap. If he hadn't thought - literally - fast enough, Ruby would have put a bullet through his heart and started the Apocalypse that Dean had kicked off, the one that Dean was supposed to stop.

That had been one of the reasons he'd run. The way Dean looked at him. Happy, but sad at the same time. Sam was alive, had saved himself. He'd also taken things out of Dean's hands, taking the reigns of every demon writhing around them and banishing them to Hell with a thought.

And Dean had seemed puzzled. Had congratulated him. Had tried to drink himself into a stupor.

-.-

_Sam dropped his brother's body onto the bed and watched as Dean rolled away from him. The older man would be feeling his little "victory bender" in the morning._

_In the meantime, Sam had a chance to clear his mind, to actually wonder why he'd been able to stop it when it had supposedly been Dean's job._

_He stepped into the bathroom for a moment - just a quick minute to make sure his eyes were still green after the day's events - and was shocked to hear voices from the other side of the door._

_Slowly, he put his ear to the wood, straining to hear the sounds._

_"You lied," Dean muttered, his voice shockingly clear for someone who had ingested as much alcohol as Sam had seen him put away that night._

_"I only relayed what I had been told." Huh. That was Cas. The angel who had disappeared after the end of the battle and had refused to look at Sam as he did so. The angel that was, apparently, still avoiding him._

_"You lied," Dean repeated. "You said I could do it. You said I had to _stop_ it."_

_"Perhaps what you were to stop was Ruby killing Sam, or Sam giving in to his blood-"_

_Something like a growl sounded in Dean's register, and Sam seriously considered stepping back into the room, if only to stop his brother from ripping the angel's head off. "Screw you. I shoulda known."_

_"Should have known what?" Castiel asked._

_"You were using me. Everyone uses me. You're no different." Dean sighed loudly. "You're no different, and he was right. I couldn't do it. I was holding him back."_

_"You saved him."_

_"I was too weak to stop it."_

_Sam's heart sank in his chest. He hadn't known Dean was still holding on to the words the siren had put in his mouth. He'd let go of Dean's own words and actions quickly enough, and he'd assumed his brother had done the same. He'd done so after Ellicott, after all._

_Or, he'd seemed to, at least. It was possible that it had all been an act. Just a show of strength that Dean now truly believed didn't exist._

_"I was too weak," his brother repeated, "and now I'll never get it."_

_"Get what?" Cas asked, and Sam could almost see the look on his face, head cocked slightly to the side, eyes narrowed and confused._

_"Doesn't matter," Dean said. "Couldn't do it."_

_"You were expecting a reward." It wasn't a question. The angel had known._

_"Am I going back to Hell?"_

_"What did you want, Dean?"_

_The room was silent for a long time. "A house," Dean finally said, his voice so soft that Sam had to strain just to hear it. "Nice place. Sammy always wanted one."_

_"What do you want for yourself?"_

_"Told you. House. Home. Safe place. That's it."_

_"That's not all. You want something more." A rustle of clothing, a creaking of springs. The angel had sat down on the bed. "You don't have to settle for the second best. If you could have anything, what would it be?"_

_Another silence fell, this one twisting out longer. Behind the bathroom door, Sam held his breath, afraid he might not be able to hear the answer if he didn't. Finally, Dean spoke._

_"Maybe, you could stay? If you want to, I mean. 'Cause Uriel said you like me, and I've never really had a friend or anything before."_

_"You've given this thought?"_

_"I don't want anyone else to leave. If… if they'd let you stay… I think I'd like that."_

_"It would have to be taken into consideration," Castiel began._

_"That why I wanted to do it," Dean muttered. "If I saved the world, I thought they might just give you to me. If I earned it…"_

_"Dean-"_

_"But I didn't. Sam did. So he should get what he wants. Not me."_

_"This isn't about Sam."_

_"But it is. It always is."_

_Sam closed his eyes against that, against the sad, desperate, pleading sound in his brother's voice. He turned and rested his back against the door, eyes tracking up to the ceiling. How long had Dean thought that? How many times had he put Sam's wants before his own simply because he didn't think he was good enough?_

_It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair, and he wasn't going to let Dean keep thinking like that. Somehow, he was going to prove that his brother could get what he wanted._

_He turned the knob and walked out of the bathroom to see Castiel sitting on the bed next to a sleeping Dean. His brother was sprawled out, the angel's fingers dancing over his temples._

_Castiel looked up at him and frowned. "You heard."_

_Sam nodded. "Yeah, I heard. Guess I'm gonna have to have a talk with him tomorrow, huh?"_

_The angel shook his head. "He won't remember."_

_"The war?"_

_"Our conversation." He sighed. "I will try to get him what he needs." He disappeared._

_Sam sighed and flopped down on his own bed, his eyes locked on his brother. As long as he was there, Dean wouldn't think of himself. As long as he was there, Dean would ask for _him_. If he left, his brother at least had a chance at happiness._

_Sam packed his bags and snuck out._

-.-

Sam sat up straight in bed, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. "Son of a bitch," he muttered, looking over his shoulder at the wall behind him.

It really was all his fault. He just hadn't seen it until he'd gotten time to think.

The angel had mind-wiped his brother. Had taken Dean's words so far out of context that t wasn't even funny and had manipulated him. Had convinced Sam somehow that leaving was best for everyone involved, had corned Dean, and then changed him.

He couldn't let Castiel get away with it. Couldn't let him keep hurting his brother. He had to tell him, had to show him the light. Had to find a way to make Dean, _Dean_ again.

He crawled out of bed and walked to the small table in the room, flipping open his laptop and waiting for it to start up. He was going to save his brother. He was going to make things right.

-.-

Dean curled closer to the angel and smiled. "Think we freaked him out?"

"I still don't understand," Castiel muttered.

"Don't need to. Just start banging on the wall again in half an hour. Trust me, it's hilarious."


	6. Chapter 6

Castiel was the first one up. He often was. He slid quietly from the bed and padded across the floor into the small kitchenette.

The stove turned on as he approached it, two pans appearing beside it, along with a carton of eggs and a package of bacon. Dean would need it. She would need a lot of things in the coming days, judging by her reaction to Sam's return.

Castiel knew this. He knew this, and was slightly offended that Dean didn't know it, as well. He had figured that after six months, she would have realized that he didn't need to go to a diner to get lunch. He could simply will the food into existence.

Needless to say, he had done a bit of eavesdropping after leaving the siblings alone. He'd heard Dean's retelling of the beginning of their relationship, and had also heard the slight note of - what? Panic? Terror? Guilt? - in Sam's voice.

He placed the eggs in one pan and watched the shells melt away under his gaze. The bacon sizzled in the other pan as Dean started to stir.

He was worried. He believed he had reason to be. After all, Sam knew things, remembered things that Castiel would rather he not remember. Things that made him seem guilty of taking advantage of Dean when the hunter was most vulnerable.

He knew what Sam was thinking, had been able to sense it even as Dean wrapped warm arms around him and snuggled in closer (cuddling being ok since she _was_ a chick). He hadn't liked what he'd seen in Sam's head, as justified as it might have been.

Things looked bad from an outside perspective, and Castiel figured that he would have to talk to the young hunter, one-on-one, and explain things. He owed it to Sam, and he owed it to Dean.

He moved from the stove and sat back on the bed, looking down at the hunter. There had been a time when he would show up in the middle of the night, and watch the man sleep, wishing to take the nightmares from his troubled mind.

He didn't have to wish anymore. He was able to stay the night, stop the nightmares before they came. He had finally identified that fluttering feeling in his heart, the twist of his stomach, the warmth that flooded through him whenever Dean uttered a kind word.

It was love, plain and simple. And it had taken the end of a war for him to finally discover that.

Castiel hadn't planned on acting on those feelings. To do so without permission (or even with permission in Dean's former state) would have meant punishment.

Dean had solved his problems for him, had shown him that even he deserved to get something that he wanted. That angels could even dare to want in the first place.

The angel reached out and brushed stray hairs away from the hunter's face, smiling as his fingers touched warm flesh. He had known it was selfish to ask this of the man, but Dean had agreed. He'd agreed readily.

Castiel would just have to explain that to Sam, convince the younger man that he was not simply using Dean, was not turning his own wants against him, was not twisting his words into something unholy. He loved the hunter, and the hunter loved him. He just wasn't sure he could make Sam believe that.

Dean stirred again, cracking her eyes open and smiling at him. "Still watching me sleep, you perv?"

The angel couldn't help but smile. "It's a comfort."

"Yeah, that's not creepy or anything," Dean muttered, rolling herself out of bed. "I smell bacon. And eggs." She raised an eyebrow and stared at him. "You didn't pop a chicken and pig in here while I was asleep, did you?"

He laughed. "No. Come on." He slid from the bed and held out his hand. She took it and used the leverage to pull herself up and into his arms.

Dean stared up at him with wide eyes. "Sammy's upset."

"I'll talk to him," the angel promised. "Why don't you set the table, and I'll go get him, ok?"

She smiled and pulled reluctantly from his grip. "Leaving me to do the housework while the manly men talk?"

"Would you rather talk to him?"

"Tried," Dean admitted. "I don't think he got it."

Cas nodded. "Then it's my turn." And with that, he went to wake up Sam.

-.-

Sam stood in front the mirror and buttoned up his shirt, staring at his reflection, trying to quiet his racing thoughts.

All his fault. It was all his fault. If he had just realized sooner that _Dean_ and _alone_ didn't mix (something he should have surely learned over the years), then none of them would be in this mess.

He shook his head and turned toward the bed and the backpack he'd left on it. He stopped short when he ran into the angel, standing behind him and staring up at him with that freakishly intense gaze.

"You're wrong."

Sam blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"I didn't do anything to her."

"_Him_," Sam corrected.

"Dean," Castiel conceded. "I would never hurt Dean."

Sam scoffed. "Really? So that whole torture thing with the demon? The fact that he almost died? Every stupid battle that you ever sent him into? The things that you do and say? That's all fine and dandy with him?"

"I hurt her no more than you do."

"You changed him," Sam growled. "You did something. Messed with his head. You're still lying to him."

The angel sighed, loud and long-suffering. "Is it really that much of a stretch that anyone could truly love your brother?"

"It is after the last conversation we had," Sam reminded him. "Someone told you to do this. You're just following orders."

Castiel tilted his head. "What makes you say that?"

Sam pushed past him and began rifling through his bag. He pulled out a jacket and threw it on. "Simple. We went through a whole war and you never expressed any interest at all. And neither did he. Then, all of a sudden, I ended things, he broke down, and you did exactly what he wants you to? Seems a little convenient, don't you think?"

"War blinds people," Cas said.

"Like Pam?" There was venom in the question, maybe a bit more than Sam had meant to inject into the words, but he didn't care. The loss of both her sight and her life could be directly linked to the being in his room.

The angel stepped closer - a complete invasion of Sam's personal space - and stared up at him. "Like you. Like me. Like Dean." He shook his head. "You were so concerned about our orders regarding you that you failed to see the manipulator in your bed. When the war was over and things slowed, what did you discover?"

"There were signs. Stuff she said and did. She was training me to kill Lilith so she could kill me and take over. But what-?"

"When the war ended, everyone had time. To think about the past and the present. You weren't the only one, Sam. Don't think yourself so special."

"So the fighting ends and you realize you're head-over-heels for my brother?"

Castiel laughed. "Nothing's that simple. Emotions are… difficult, at best. It took that night's conversation, my reaction to Dean's request, for me to fully realize what was going on."

"You expect me to believe that?" Sam asked him. "To just take your word for it and believe that my brother randomly turned gay overnight and forgot to tell me?" He wasn't buying it for a minute. It was too convenient, too contrived.

"No. Like I said, it isn't that simple. But you need to try and understand, Sam. We're happy. _She's_ happy. That should be enough for you."

"It's not right," Sam argued. "Even if he is happy, he's not _him_ anymore."

"Does the packaging really mean that much to you?"

"You don't love him. You can't."

Castiel blinked, as if thrown by the turn the conversation had taken. Sam couldn't help but smile at his reaction, hoping to finally get the answer he was looking for - the honest one. "I'm here, aren't I?"

Sam barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Yeah. And if you ever wanna go back to Heaven, you can just leave. Or if you get called back. You can't tell me you'll disobey for him."

The angel finally tore his eyes away from the hunter's, as if considering how to answer. For all Sam knew, he probably was. Just thinking of the magical words that would make him believe this whole ridiculous mess.

Angels couldn't love. They didn't feel emotion. Anna had told them so.

And Dean… Dean was being used. He didn't know why Dean was being used, but he was. Castiel had taken something Dean had wanted and turned it against him, without the hunter's knowledge that he'd even revealed he'd wanted it. It wasn't fair and it wasn't right and-

"I wouldn't."

Sam blinked to snap himself out of his thoughts. "What?"

"I wouldn't. Disobey. She wouldn't want me to."

Sam gaped at him. There it was. All the proof he needed. Not that Dean would believe him, thinking that the angel was a freakin' saint or something. "You-"

"I suggest you come to breakfast," Cas said. "We're having bacon." He disappeared.

-.-

Dean felt arms snake around her waist before she'd even registered the other presence in the room, used to it as she had become. "How'd it go?" she asked, not even bothering to turn from the stove to face the angel.

"Better than I'd hoped," Cas admitted, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Meaning…?"

"He didn't try to kill me."

"Well, look at that," she said, finally turning. "He must like you more than I do." She leaned up to meet his lips, sighing into his open mouth as his hands tightened at her waist.

She knew Sam was upset, had figured that out when he'd started yelling at her the night before. But it wasn't her fault. He was the one that had left, the one that had run off after winning _her_ war. He didn't get a say in big sister's life anymore. It was hers for the taking.

"Love you," Cas whispered.

Dean smiled and buried her face in the angel's shoulder. "Love you, too, featherhead."


	7. Chapter 7

All right. So, tomorrow is Easter, and that means I'm not going to post. Sorry. Have a hapy holiday, though. Make sure you find all those eggs ;)  


* * *

He'd said it was permanent. Sam knew that there was no such thing as permanent. His family, his job, his girlfriend, his school, his life, his powers. None of it had been forever, even though he'd thought they could last. So there had to be a way to fix it.

He glanced out the window of his room to see Dean and Castiel sitting on the hood of the Impala, backs to the windshield, fingers interlaced, watching the sun set. It was sickening. Like Dean had no idea he was being used, being tricked. Like he hadn't learned from Sam's mistakes.

Luckily for them both, Sam had learned. He'd learned that nothing is permanent and that supernatural beings don't care for anything but their bigger pictures. So he was going to help his brother. He was going to save Dean.

Laptop already open and running a search, Sam grabbed his phone and dialed Bobby's number.

"What do you know about gender swaps?" he asked before the older hunter even had a chance to say hello.

"Why do you want to know?" Bobby asked.

"Dean got himself into some trouble," Sam said.

Over the line, Bobby laughed. "That's the understatement of the century."

"What?"

"I know," the older hunter said. "They stopped by a few months ago, coming back from a hunt, I think. Told me everything."

"And you're all right with that?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Sam groaned. "Don't you get it? He's being tricked."

"Seems pretty genuine to me, Sam. Besides, why would an angel trick him?"

"I don't know," Sam admitted, "but I walked in on a conversation of theirs a few months back-"

"Before your disappearing act?"

"You should have heard it, Bobby," he continued. "Dean was wrecked, and Cas wiped his memory of the whole thing, and it just doesn't seem right, you know? Like the angel's only doing it because he has to. But Dean thinks it's real-"

"So do I," the older hunter interrupted. "You seen the way they look at each other?"

"Yeah, I have, but it still doesn't feel right."

"Maybe because you've been gone for so long. Why did you run away?"

"I didn't run away," Sam said. "I took some time off to clear my head."

"For six months?" Crap. That was Bobby's annoyed voice.

Sam sighed. "Look, I know I shouldn't have, but-"

"Damn right, you shouldn't have. You have any idea the kinda hell your brother went through after you left?"

"Yeah," the younger hunter muttered. "I do. It's pretty obvious, isn't it?"

"Dean's a grown man, Sam. He can take care of himself. He can make his own decisions. I think you should stay out of it."

Sam rolled his eyes, not entirely convinced that what Bobby had said was true. Dean wasn't a man anymore, and he certainly couldn't be left alone to make his own decisions. "Yeah, whatever."

"I'm serious, Sam. You leave your brother alone. He'll be fine."

"All right, Bobby." He hung up the phone without waiting for the older hunter's response and turned back to his computer. "Looks like I'm doing things the old fashioned way."

-.-

Castiel woke with a warm body curled next to his own. He'd become used to this. Dean, despite all of her old objections, was a cuddler. She enjoyed the contact, the warmth, the sense of comfort that came from a beating heart staying so close throughout the night.

He knew this in the same way that he knew her. Not by studying, or by asking. He just simply knew.

It was how he knew that she was scared, that she believed her brother's return would ultimately tear Castiel away, scare him off. It's how he knew that Sam was getting to her, making her doubt something that she readily believed just a few short months before.

Dean was easily swayed by her fear. The knowledge that everyone she had ever loved in her life had walked away. She blamed herself for that. She tried to be good, to be perfect.

Cas had told her on multiple occasions that she didn't need to try. She was perfect in the eyes of the Lord. She was perfect to her angel.

She still didn't believe him. Obviously

She'd asked him the night before, perched on the hood of her car, if angels made deals like demons. If God was the bargaining type. He hadn't answered, and she had proposed a deal. She would go to church, read the Bible, do whatever they needed her to do, if he would stay. Forever.

He knew forever. Never-ending. Infinity.

He liked the idea of spending an eternity with her, in her arms. He told her the truth. God didn't deal. But He did believe in rewarding the faithful. And while Dean wasn't a saint, she was no longer the sinner that she had once been.

Castiel smiled. She had stopped driving so fast. She had cut down on the swearing, stopped taking the Lord's name in vain altogether. He was her only partner, a new experience for both of them. Dean submitting so completely, and Cas… well, there was never a dull moment and always a new experience.

She had stopped drinking, as well. She didn't realize how well he truly knew her, how intimate their connection was. She still told him to buy things that she didn't need, ducked away for hours, claiming to be shopping.

But Castiel knew. Her secret. Her surprise. What was hidden under the floorboards in their small bedroom back at the cabin.

He knew.

Still smiling, eyes closed against the glare of morning light falling through the thin curtains, he snaked a hand under the covers and over her waist.

And stopped.

His eyes snapped open, his face going slack with shock as he stared at the body next to his own.

He didn't understand. It didn't make sense. It should have been impossible.

Castiel's hand rested on Dean's stomach as the last pulses of vibrant life faded beneath his fingertips. Too late.

Too late.

Scared of what he might do, what might happen to them with this new revelation hanging over their heads, he flew.

God help him, he flew.

-.-

Sam knew it had worked when he woke up to the sound of his brother's deep, gruff voice screaming in the room next door.


	8. Chapter 8

Let me just apologize in advance for the shortness of this chapter, especially following an evil cliffie of DOOM!!!!!  


* * *

Permanent never meant permanent. Dean had learned that when she woke up in a cold bed. When she looked to her left and saw that Castiel wasn't there waiting for her, watching her sleep like he always did.

The room didn't smell like food. He wasn't standing in the kitchenette.

He wasn't there.

So Dean had sat up. She sat straight up, realized that something was wrong, that gravity wasn't working right, and looked down.

Permanent never meant permanent. Dean realized this when Sam burst into the room with a big-ass fucking smile on his face and started rambling on about how he'd fixed it, how he'd found the curse online somehow, how Ruby had taught him a bit of magic before she'd tried to kill him and Dean didn't really fucking care.

He didn't really fucking care about anything because… shit. Because he was a _he_.

Because Cas was gone and he was alone and Sam was grinning like the fucking idiot he obviously was.

Because Dean had gone to sleep in the arms of an angel, as hokey as that sounded, and had woken up alone. He'd woken up alone because his stupid little brother had figured out that hitting him with a generic gender swapping curse while he was a chick would obviously fix what Dean really hadn't been thinking of as problem.

Because Dean had gotten dressed and pulled on clothes that he had come to think of as Castiel's for the past six months.

So Dean screamed and Dean bellowed and Dean marched up to him and damn was Sam short. Shorter than he'd been the day before, anyway.

Dean punched his brother in the face and stormed out of the room. He had to get drunk. He had to get very drunk.

Sort of because he wanted to.

Mostly because he could.

_Fuck._

-.-

Sam was reeling. He really hadn't expected Dean to react that way. Punching him.

Yeah, not the thank-you he'd been looking forward to.

Not that he cared, really. He had his brother back. And, eventually, he figured, Dean would come to realize what Sam had done for him. Helping him. Fixing him. Giving him his family back.

Something wet slid down the front of his face. He wiped at it, his fingers coming away red. Perfect. Nose bleed.

He grabbed a couple of Kleenex from the bathroom and tilted his head back, tangy blood flowing down his throat, the familiarity of the feeling making him shudder.

He was over that, though. The blood addiction and Ruby and powers. That was all behind him. He'd saved the world, for crying out loud. He wasn't evil. He wasn't a killer, wasn't a demon, wasn't a leader. He was just Sam.

Tilting his head forward again, he checked the blood flow. Still running. Great. Just freakin' great.

He went back to the typical nose bleed position, staring up at the ceiling while his own blood slipped down his throat, turning his stomach.

At least it wasn't broken. If Dean had wanted to break it, he could have. He'd pulled the punch at the last second, softening the blow just a bit. Just enough to make him bleed, not enough to make him break.

He smiled. Dean had hit him hard. Harder than he could have as a woman.

It had been a simple solution, really. Dean was a chick, plain and simple. It was permanent, ingrained into his DNA. Like he'd been born that way. So why couldn't a typical curse, the kind that some unlucky hunters got hit with every once in a blue moon, work? Why couldn't that change him back?

The curse was strong. Nothing as simple as he would have Dean believe. It had involved some serious stuff, stuff that they'd had in their duffels, in his own backpack, in the trunk of the car. And the blood of a demon. Sam's blood.

But, whatever. It had worked. Dean was six-foot-one again, strong and chiseled (although he would never admit to describing his brother that way), and clearly a man.

Right down to the way he hit.

Sam checked his nose again to find that the bleeding had stopped. He crumpled up the napkin and tossed it toward the trashcan. It hit the edge of the opening and bounced off onto the floor.

Groaning, the hunter walked to the can, bent down, and picked up the bloody tissue. He moved to put it in the can and stopped, his heart trip-hammering in his chest.

He dropped the Kleenex and reached into the trashcan, brushing away a fast food wrapper to reveal what his eyes had latched onto and refused to let go of. Pulling it out, he saw that it was exactly what he'd thought it was, and his heart sank in his chest.

A home pregnancy test.

A _positive_ home pregnancy test.

_Fuck._


	9. Chapter 9

Sam hefted his backpack over his shoulder and ran from his room.

He couldn't do this. Couldn't take the responsibility for this one.

He couldn't believe he'd been so stupid, hadn't seen the signs. No beer. No _caffeine_. That wasn't Dean, not unless he was putting someone else first. Someone who was now, thanks to Sam, dead.

Or not.

And that was the part he was having trouble with, laws of nature bending for their family time and time again. Who was to say it was dead? Who was to say he wasn't responsible for something that could end up being worse than murder? Who was to say-

He stopped abruptly, his body crashing into a small, steady figure. "Cas," he gasped, backing away from the angel as if the being had burnt him. "I-"

Blue eyes roved over him, settling on the backpack. "Where are you going, Sam?"

"Um…."

Castiel reached out and grabbed his shoulder. Something pulled at Sam' stomach, the world spinning out around him, and he found himself back in Dean's motel room with the angel.

He heard the lock click and saw the deadbolt slide. "Cas?"

"You need to stay, Sam. You can't leave him like this."

"Look who's talking."

The angel glared at him. "You don't understand-"

"I understand perfectly. He trusted you-"

"He trusted _you._ To understand. To stay."

"You ran, too," Sam pointed out.

"He wouldn't have let me stay. The temptation-"

"Temptation?" Sam asked, anger lacing his voice. "Oh, that's right. I forgot. Heaven forbid you should Fall."

"Exactly," Castiel said, still staring up at him with hard eyes. "Dean would never forgive himself."

"Right. Because this is all about Dean." He shook his head. "Why can't you just admit that you're scared? That you don't want to be like us. That you wouldn't be able to stand it. You want an escape route."

"I don't want an escape route-"

"Then stay with him."

"Why don't you?"

Sam blinked and finally pulled his eyes from the angel's. They wandered the room before finally settling on the trashcan in the corner. "After what I did," he muttered, "I don't think he'll want anything to do with me."

Castiel sighed and leaned back against the dresser, his back to the mirror, fingers ghosting over the keys to the car. "You didn't know. Besides, he'll need someone." He slid from his spot in the dresser and waved his hand at the door, unlocking it. "You should be here when he gets back."

He started toward the door.

"Wait."

The angel turned. "Sam-"

"I just want to know why."

"Because I love him, and he loves me."

"But _why?_"

Castiel tilted his head. "I'm not sure. It started out being about dedication, having faith even when he denied it. Strength and devotion and a willingness to sacrifice everything for the greater good. But it changed. Sarcasm and jokes and a love of life." He sighed. "Why did you love Jessica?"

Sam blinked. He'd never really thought about it before. It had just been a feeling, something he supposed he'd taken for granted. "I… I don't really know."

The angel smiled at him, pain in his eyes. "Welcome to my world." He disappeared.

-.-

Dean hadn't made it to the bar. He'd thrown on Cas' - _his_ - old leather jacket and stormed from the room. He'd been meaning to get totally plastered, but hadn't had the heart. After all, he wasn't entirely sure what the rules on his particular situation were. He wasn't sure if the baby was still there.

He couldn't feel it. Not that it had been moving at the ripe old age of three-to-four months, but he'd known it was there. A comforting presence. Warm. Safe. Happy.

All of that was gone.

Everything was gone.

It was only a matter of time before Sam left again, and then where would he be? Lost and alone, that's where.

So he'd wanted to get drunk. He'd wanted to forget, just for a while, what was waiting for him back at the motel. His car and his brother. The only two things that he'd ever truly had for himself.

Figured that he'd pass a church on the way to the bar. Figured that he'd know that the comforting weight in the inside pocket of his jacket wasn't his dad's journal.

He walked into the church and made his way to one of the pews, sitting down and digging Castiel's battered old Bible out of his pocket. Black cover, gold lettering. It might've been swiped from a motel. Might not. He'd never asked.

He'd seen it so many times in his angel's hands. Thin pages being flipped. Tiny lettering forming words that jumped from page to lips, whispered into whatever motel room they were in. Spoken aloud in their house.

Their home.

He wondered if it was still there. If he could still stay there. Maybe he could take Sam. The little geek would probably like that. He'd always wanted a home, after all. The same roof night after night, a real address, a mailbox with their name on it.

Yeah, he'd take Sam. He'd take Sam there and he'd give the place to him. Because Sam deserved it. Because he'd learned from experience that if Sam got his way, got what he wanted, Sam would stay. Just a little bit longer.

As much as Dean hated the idea of giving away his home, he knew it was a necessity. Besides, what good would a big, empty house do him if he didn't have anyone to share it with?

He opened the Bible and began to read. He'd never really bothered to do that before. Cas had told him to, once. He'd ignored the angel because that was just how their relationship had worked back then. Back when Cas was still coming around to tell him what to do and Dean was always a little happier to have him around, just because he came back.

Cas wasn't coming back anymore. He couldn't. If he did, they'd end up doing exactly what they'd been doing for the past five months, and that would get him kicked out of his heavenly little club.

Dean didn't want that. He wasn't going to be responsible for hurting anyone else. So he'd suck it up, go back to Sam, and pretend like nothing had happened, even though it felt like there was a gaping hole in his heart, and a matching one in the pit of his stomach.

It hurt so bad. Knowing that he would never again be able to wake up to the smell of breakfast cooking. That he would fall asleep alone and wake up alone. That he'd never get to be a father. Or a mother.

He could find someone else. Settle down with a nice girl. But it wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't be the same, and even if he would have kids, it wouldn't feel right.

He closed the Bible and looked up at the light filtering into the church from a large skylight in the ceiling. Two weeks late and he'd bought a test, gone behind Castiel's back, not knowing what the rules were for that kind of thing. He'd taken the test and started thinking about floods and lightning and Hell and giants. He'd gotten the results and started to think about names and genders and where they could put a nursery.

Dean had always wanted a family, and he'd learned early on in life that he never got what he wanted. So he took a test at least once a month. Still positive. Cas by his side, it had looked like things were finally going to be ok. He could have a house and a family, someone that loved him.

He'd gotten cocky, though, and look at where that had led.

He'd gotten cocky, and he hadn't done what he was told, and now he was being punished for it.

He was always being punished.

God probably didn't want him sitting in the church, stinking it up with his failure, looking like a homeless man with his old clothes and his longish hair and the beginnings of a beard.

So he put the Bible back in his pocket, stood, and walked from the church.

At least Sam would be happy to see him.

-.-

He lost his nerve as he got closer to the motel. He knew that Sam was inside and Cas wasn't, knew that what were probably the best months of his life were over. He knew that Sam would ask questions, would want to know everything.

Dean wasn't entirely sure that he was ready to share everything, ready to drive Sam to the cabin and give it to him. Give him all he had left of him and Cas.

He reached the car and sighed, leaning up against the cool metal. At least he could keep her. She wouldn't leave. Not that that meant much in the long run, inanimate object and all.

He ran a hand over her hood. As soon as he packed his bags and drove, Sam in the passenger seat instead of Cas, it would be over. He'd be back in his old life, brother by his side, lover up in Heaven.

There had been a time, back when all of this started, when he'd actually wanted that. Had wanted Sam to be Sam again, had wanted the burden of the Apocalypse off of his own shoulders. Now he just wanted it all back. The angels and the constant threats and Sam becoming his own person, not needing Dean to be Dean.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and straightened. That was weird. He could have sworn he'd left the keys on the dresser. He knew for sure that Cas hadn't had them. He never drove.

Dean pulled the keys from his pocket and stared at them for a while, the weight of the Bible in his jacket a constant reminder of what he'd lost. What he still had left to lose.

Castiel, the baby, safety, happiness, love. He was going to lose his home. Lose his brother eventually.

He unlocked the door and slid in behind the wheel, cramped until he adjusted the seat for his new - old? - height. The car purred to life around him, and he drove back toward the one thing he had left.

Dean was going home.


	10. Chapter 10

Trees flew by the windows of the car Sam had swiped from the motel parking lot.

He'd been sitting in the motel room, waiting for his brother to return, when he'd heard the familiar sound of the Impala's engine roaring to life. He'd run to the window in time to see the car pulling out of the parking lot.

He'd gathered up the two duffle bags from his brother's room, along with his own backpack, and had set about hotwiring a car to chase Dean down.

That was half an hour ago. Since then, Dean had sped up, hitting highways and backroads. He'd stopped for gas once, making Sam duck down in the car to avoid being seen.

Now they were on a winding dirt road, surrounded by trees, Sam lagging farther and farther behind his brother as they went along.

He had no idea where Dean was going, just knew that he had to follow him. Dean hadn't been acting right that morning, was understandably upset. But to up and run away? To leave with nothing but the clothes on his back? Something was wrong.

He'd lost sight of his brother on the road a few minutes before, but wasn't too worried. He could still see the tire tracks in the gravel clearly, could easily make out the path that Dean had taken.

The road ended in a circular drive, where Sam could see the Impala parked through the trees. He killed the engine and ducked down, watching as Dean got out of the car and crossed to what looked like a pile of logs.

Squinting, Sam could see that it wasn't actually a pile, but a house. A small cabin. Shutters hung sideways off the windows, the overhang had half collapsed onto the porch, and there were holes in the roof.

Sam waited to see if his brother would come back out, but after ten minutes, he realized that wasn't happening. Worried, he slid out of the car and walked up to the house, his shoes crunching along the gravel.

The house had been nice, once. The kind of thing that most kids made out of Lincoln logs. Not very big, but not too small, either. A nice home, probably, when it had been new and functional.

He climbed up the creaky steps, treading lightly so as not to fall through the wood, and opened the door.

The inside looked worse than the outside. Broken furniture littered the floor, along with dead spiders, mice, and a few birds that had fallen through the holes in the ceiling. Dust covered every inch of the place, except for a path of boot prints going through the middle of the room and towards a door that was hanging off its hinges.

"Dean?" Sam whispered, peering into the gloomy darkness. He followed the footprints and leaned through the doorway, looking for his brother.

Dean was sitting in the middle of the dirty floor, his back leaning against a moth-eaten bedspread. He was staring down at his hands, his face slack, eyes dead. Bright wrapping paper and a small box sat beside him.

Sam followed his brother's gaze to the piece of pale yellow fabric in his hands. "Dean?"

-.-

The bib was gender neutral. Yellow. Soft between his fingers. His thick, masculine fingers.

Dean had never thought he'd hate his hands so much.

He'd heard the door open, heard Sam call his name. He just didn't care anymore. About any of it.

This was his house. His home. Once a nice place, fixed up by Heaven itself, now decrepit and dusty. The present he'd hidden under the floorboards in the bedroom seemed to be the only clean thing in the place.

He flattened the bib out as Sam walked in. He didn't look up, didn't acknowledge his brother's presence. Just stared down at the bib in his hands, the small blue lettering reading "Daddy's Little Angel." Pink wings outlined the words on the fabric.

"It was gonna be a birthday gift," Dean muttered, still looking down at the piece of cloth. "For Cas. Let him know. I mean, he probably already knew, but… I wanted to surprise him." Sam didn't say anything. "He doesn't really have a birthday. Told him to just pick a date." He met his brother's eyes. "September 18th. He chose September 18th."

Sam walked over to the bed and slid down beside him, holding out a hand for the bib. Dean handed it over. What use did he have for it anyway?

"I was gonna name him Aaron," he said. "Or her. Spell it with an E, or something."

Sammy nodded, his fingers brushing over the fabric. "Why Aaron? Or, Erin?"

Dean grinned, but it felt hollow. Empty. Broken. "It's stupid. There was this movie… I caught it on TV a couple of years back. It was about this kid named Aaron. Weird stuff was happening to him, and he found out he was a nephilim."

"The kid of an angel?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. He could, like, hear animals and crap. I dunno. It wasn't all that good, just something to watch, but it stuck, you know? Thought it was fitting, anyway."

"Sounds awesome," Sam said. His voice was soft, meant to be comforting, but Dean could see through it. Knew his brother well enough to know when Sam was scared, thought that something was wrong. When Sam thought _he_ was wrong.

"We lived here," he said, trying to redirect the conversation. "It was nicer. Cas fixed it up, or something. I'd give you the tour, but it's not much to look at right now."

"So it wasn't real?"

Dean blinked. "What do you mean?"

"The house. It was an illusion."

"Why d'you think that?"

Sam shrugged. "He disappears, and so does everything you had? Little suspicious right?"

He thought about it, his mind sticking on the things Sam had said, the things Sam had done, everything that had led them there. It made sense, he supposed, in his brother's mind. "The house is a metaphor," he said slowly.

"Is it?" Sam seemed genuinely confused, but Dean wasn't buying it. The kid knew what he was talking about, trying to plant ideas in his head, trying to shake him to his core.

"I'm not stupid, Sammy. You think it's a metaphor for the whole damn thing. For love and for happiness and for whatever the fuck else you took away." Sam was cringing as the older man's voice rose, but Dean didn't care. He deserved to get scared. "You think the whole thing was fake, and you won't even tell me why."

"He's an angel."

"Yeah?"

"They don't have feelings."

"You talked to him lately, Sam? Because he feels. He feels a hell of a lot."

Sam sighed. "He was using you."

"For what? The war's over, in case you hadn't noticed."

The kid at least had the decency to cringe at the bite behind the words. "I don't know," he muttered. "For kicks and giggles, maybe? To have a reason to hang out here a little longer? To keep an eye on me?"

"Then why'd he turn up after you left, huh?"

"I don't know. But he couldn't have really-"

"What, Sam? Loved me? Because no one can, right? Not like you. Staying and caring are two completely different things, aren't they?"

"You don't understand."

"Then enlighten me, please," Dean growled, ripping the bib from his brother' slack fingers.

"I heard you guys talking-"

"All couples fight."

"_Before_ I left," Sam clarified. "He said he wiped it out of your mind. It was the night after we ended it. I was in the bathroom, and you were trying to sleep off the celebration, when I heard you talking. To him."

Dean furrowed his brow. He could remember going to the bar that night, trying to drink away the weight of failure that had settled on his shoulders. He'd passed out in the passenger seat of the car, and woken up the next morning.

Without a hangover.

Yeah, he'd thought that was odd at the time, but…

"You think he did something to me?"

"He asked you what you wanted," Sam said. "You asked for a house. Because you thought I'd always wanted one."

"You did. When you were a kid-"

"I'm not a kid anymore, Dean. And that's not the point. He asked you what _you_ wanted, and you said you wanted him to stay."

"I did?"

"Yeah."

Dean shook his head, his eyes roving over the dirty floor. "I don't remember that."

"He mind-wiped you. And I'm guessing he also took what you said _way _out of context."

"He wouldn't…"

"It was your reward, Dean"

"You're wrong."

"I'm just telling you what I heard and what I saw, ok? He knocked you out and said that he was going to try and get you what you wanted."

He shook his head again. "No. You Don't understand-"

"Remember what his boss did to us? It's possible."

"He wouldn't."

"They're heartless. Emotionless. Dean, love is lost on-"

"Get out."

Sam blinked. "What?"

The bib curled in his hands, twisting as he clenched his fists. "Get out of my house."

"It's not-"

"_Now._"

To Dean's surprise, his little brother actually listened to him.


	11. Chapter 11

All right, guys. This is the last technical chapter. Epilogue should be up tomorrow morning. Thanks for reading and enjoying!  


* * *

The bib was sitting on the dresser. Dean was laying on the bed, curled up, thinking.

Mostly about Sam. About what Sam had said. What Sam believed. Dean didn't believe him. Sammy meant well, but he just didn't get it. Cas had been telling the truth. He couldn't lie. He'd said so himself.

Unless he was lying about lying. But that was a whole new can of worms that Dean didn't want to open.

No. Cas had told the truth. Cas had loved him, and he had loved Cas, and they would have lived happily ever after if only Sam had believed him. If only Sam had understood. If only Sam had done something nice for his big brother, instead of trying to fix something that was fine to begin with.

But he didn't want to think about what he had lost. There was too much there. He sighed, and tried to turn his mind to happier things.

He could fix the house, maybe, make it like new again. He could have a home, one that Sam apparently didn't want to share with him. He could have a home, and maybe start a family. Find a girl with black hair and blue eyes. Settle down.

He felt the mattress dip, but ignored it. Probably Sam, coming back to try and tear him away from the only reminder he had of the good thing that had once been his.

The weight shifted closer, until it was pressed up against his back, one arm looping over his side, hand resting on his stomach. Dean's heart began to pound as he realized it wasn't Sam. Because Sam was cleaner shaven, and Sam didn't smell like rain, and Sam had never held him like this.

He was scared, even as the hand traced up his ribs to rest over his heart, the familiar weight and presence calming him as he started to panic. This wasn't good. This wasn't right. This was all kinds of bad, and it could only lead to bad things for both of them.

"Shhh," Castiel whispered into his back. "It's ok. I'm ok." He slid his hand back to Dean's stomach. "It would have started with the two As."

"What?" the hunter asked, not daring to turn around, scared that it was all a dream.

"He would have been beautiful, our Aaron."

Dean felt himself gasp. He hadn't meant to. It had just happened, because out of everything the angel could have said to comfort him, that was the one he hadn't been expecting. "You knew?"

"I did."

He sighed, and brought his own hand up to cover the one holding him tightly. "And it was all right? _He_ was all right? Like…?"

"He was fine. And so were we."

"No floods, then?"

The angel chuckled into his back. "No floods."

"Good." He squeezed Castiel's hand. "So what brings you back?" He didn't want to know the answer, hadn't wanted to ask. But he had to know. Good things didn't typically happen to him, and Cas coming back was definitely a good thing. So there had to be a catch.

There just had to.

-.-

Castiel knew Dean. Knew him very well. Better than Dean maybe knew himself. So he knew what the hunter was fishing for with what was a seemingly innocent question.

He wasn't ready to answer it. He couldn't answer it, not in a way that would make Dean happy, not in a way that would allow them to stay together. Not in a way that wouldn't make him horribly selfish.

So he would redirect the hunter's attention. He knew he couldn't hide it from Dean forever, but he could try. At least until he had a decent explanation cooked up, or until Dean was happy.

Happy didn't involve being curled up on a dusty bed in a dirty house. Castiel would have to fix that, too. He just hoped he had it in him after everything else. After rings and Dean and Aaron. After restoring a happy life as best he could.

Dean shifted, uncomfortable with the silence.

"I wanted to give you something," Castiel answered, taking his hand from its place on Dean's stomach and slipping it into his own pocket. He pulled out the gift, smiling as it shone brightly in the dim light of the room.

The angel sat up and Dean followed suit. "What is it?"

Castiel held out the item for Dean to see. "I was planning on getting you one before Sam returned, and then everything happened so fast, and this was the best I could do. I'm sorry."

Dean looked at the ring in the angel's hand, before turning his eyes back up to Castiel. "Are you… does this mean… is that even legal?"

"In some states, yes. I believe there are three now."

The hunter shook his head. "No, I mean-"

"I know what you mean," Cas said. "And it is." Or it would be. By the end of the next day, it would be.

He slid the ring onto Dean's finger, watching the other man's eyes widen as it touched his skin. He could feel it, then. It would only be a matter of time before he figured it out, discovered what the angel had done.

Dean caught his hand, turning it, looking at the ring Castiel already wore. "So you're staying?"

He nodded, leaning forward and capturing the hunter's lips, risking everything he'd planned in order to give the man a little reassurance after everything had been pulled away from them.

They slid back down, heads on moldy pillows. It would be better in the morning. Everything would be better in the morning. Until then, their linked hands were illuminated by the faint glow of the rings.

Castiel closed his eyes, and slowly drifted off to sleep.

-.-

Dean was confused.

Actually, that was an understatement.

He'd gone to sleep in Castiel's arms, both of them curled up on a smelly, moth-eaten bed, and he'd woken up on fresh sheets. The house was exactly the same as he'd always remembered it. Clean and warm and cozy. Made possible by an angel's Grace.

So he was a little confused. Because he'd been told that they couldn't be together. Not like this.

He absently twirled the ring on his finger, sitting at the kitchen table (newly restored like the rest of the house and all of the furniture in it) and waiting for Cas to wake up. Which was another thing that confused him. Cas never slept in. He was always the first to wake up, like he maybe didn't need sleep.

It was probably just an angel thing, and that was what had Dean concerned. His angel was sleeping in. His angel was acting human. His angel might have _been_ human.

He liked to believe that Cas would have told him if something big like that had happened, if he'd been planning to Fall.

He looked around the kitchen as he waited. Had toured the house after he'd woken up. It was just like they'd left it. It was _theirs._

That worried him, for some reason.

Sighing, Dean looked down at his ring. The ring Cas had given him. It was a promise. Silver band and bluish stones that seemed to sparkle and swirl in the light of the rising sun.

Only, there weren't any stones. There weren't any diamonds (not that he'd been expecting them, mind you). He tapped at whatever had been inlaid in the metal. It sounded like glass. It looked like glass, too, now that he was thinking about it.

A small glass tube, curved like the ring and set into the band. The stuff inside it was swirling, moving, glowing blue. It almost reminded him of Anna's Grace, only darker. Deeper.

Actually, besides the color, it looked exactly like her Grace had when it had hung around Uriel's neck.

He sighed. Sam had been wrong. Cas did love him.

-.-

Dean was waiting for him when he woke up.

It had been interesting, sleeping in. Castiel had never really done that before. He'd hardly slept before. He supposed things were different now, with his decision.

He sat down at the table across from Dean, staring into the hunter's eyes, waiting for the recrimination.

"I know what you did," Dean said softly.

"I figured you might."

"I wanna know why."

Castiel sighed. "Sam was right. I was being selfish. I asked too much. I took advantage of you when you were alone. You weren't thinking straight."

"You gave me a month," Dean pointed out. "I was thinkin' straight. I made my choice so you wouldn't have to make yours. I told you, I'm not dragging you down with me."

"You're not dragging me anywhere. I chose to be here."

Dean leaned back in his chair. "So why didn't I see any falling stars last night?"

The angel smiled. "It doesn't always work like that. I'm not as rash as Anna. Grace can be given away, funneled into different things. It's especially helpful if I want to keep this form. Anna's Grace plummeted to Earth, and took the shape of something in nature. She was reborn. She didn't have anyone waiting for her. I like to think I'm a little more responsible than that."

"The house."

"And the rings." He nodded, his smile fading slowly as he considered what he was about to say next. "And you," he added, "if you'll let me."

"What do you mean?"

"It's creation," Castiel explained. "Pure and simple. It can do things unimaginable. It can change things." He dropped his eyes. "If you like."

"You can change me back, then?"

He nodded again. "And, perhaps, I can even restore Aaron. Again, if you would let me."

Dean blinked, his eyes sliding to the side. "I… I want a family. I want my own family."

"Is that a yes?"

"Definitely."

Castiel smiled. "Close your eyes."

-.-

Dean did as he was told. He was used to following orders doled out in a deep, commanding voice. He'd been doing it his whole life.

He scooted up closer to the table and folded his hands on top of it. His eyes slid shut. If someone had walked in at that moment, it probably would have looked like he was praying. Most likely because he was.

Praying that it would work. That Sam had actually listened to him and gone away, left him alone. He hated praying for something like that, but Sam didn't understand. He wanted his brother to be happy for him, to not doubt his judgement.

A warm hand closed over his own, metal clinking as rings met. "Relax," Cas said. So Dean did.

The warmth spread from the angel's hand and through his body, filling him with Grace, with creation, with change. He could feel it, his bones shrinking and bending, muscles rearranging, body shifting. It didn't hurt. It felt right.

The hand left his, falling away as something across the table thumped. Dean opened her eyes and stared. Cas was slumped in his chair, exhausted.

"Aaron, tomorrow," he whispered.

Dean nodded. "You all right?" She'd never thought she'd be so happy to hear the sound of her own voice, to sound this way forever. She'd started taking it for granted, believing that it would always be there, and Sam returning, Sam ruining everything had opened her eyes.

It was permanent now. Sam couldn't fault her, couldn't fault Cas. He was giving up just as much as she was, maybe more. Slowly draining himself of everything that made him, _him_. Changing slowly from angel to human, tiring himself in the process.

"I'm fine," he muttered. "Tired. Just enough left for him. It'll be over after that." He met her eyes, a weak smile crossing his face. "You're beautiful."

She smiled, and looked down at herself, long hair falling into her face, over her shoulders. Her clothes hung loose now, old shirts and jeans too big for her, but fine for Cas.

The ring on her finger, however, still fit perfectly.


	12. Epilogue

All right. So this is the end. You know, I was really surprised that people reacted to this story the way they did. I wasn't so sure about it it at first. Thanks so much for all the awesome reviews, and thanks for reading!

* * *

**Five Years Later**

Sam Winchester pulled onto the dirt drive, passing the small white mailbox indicating the turn-off to his friends' house.

He glanced into the backseat, at the large plastic trash bag that held the gifts he'd purchased for the people that had helped save his life. He'd been so devastated after his brother's death in the war, so broken. Lucas and Deanna and had taken him in, though. They'd tended his wounds, healed his heart, and always treated him like part of the family. They could never replace Johnny, but they could fill some of the holes in Sam's heart.

-.-

_"He remembers everything, technically. You were both raised the same, but you went by a shortened version of your first name. Anna was the angel that pulled you from Hell. You and she both perished in the war. I'm sorry, Dean."_

-.-

The little cabin was set off into the woods, the roof covered by glistening snow, looking like something from a Thomas Kinkade painting.

It was beautiful, and Sam had to wonder how the Godsends had been able to afford such a nice little place, so far from everything. As far as he knew, hunting, mechanic work, and preaching didn't pay well enough to keep things running.

He never asked, though. It was impolite, and he'd depended on them so much throughout the years that he couldn't be turned away. It would ruin him.

-.-

_The angel looked tired, but Sam didn't care. Dean was a fucking girl, and the house looked like new, and sometimes Sam just couldn't understand his brother's particular level of stupidity._

_Castiel approached him, and Sam drew himself up to his full height. He wouldn't be intimidated by a Fallen angel._

_Fingers brushed his forehead, and Sam forgot his anger._

_Sam forgot everything._

-.-

Sam liked stopping by their place. It made him feel like Johnny was still alive. Like Haniel had never died. Like everything was right.

He adjusted the bag over his shoulder and rang the doorbell. He waited, breath puffing out in front of him, visible in the chill air.

The door was wrenched open, and he found himself staring at the most beautiful girl in the world. Blonde hair, freckles, blue eyes. Her parents' Miracle. Aptly named little girl, if you asked him. Smart and funny and cute as a button.

"Hey, Mary. Your mommy and daddy home?"

Miracle smiled up at him, revealing a missing front tooth. "Yep." She eyed the trash bag. "Are those presents?"

"Wouldn't be much of a Christmas without them," he answered, stepping past her and into the cabin. There was a fire in the fireplace, and some forgotten Christmas special playing on the TV. It felt like home.

He'd always wanted a home.

-.-

_His Grace was almost gone. He would have happily spent it on Aaron, on bringing his boy back, but Dean was staring at him, begging him. For what, he didn't know. He just hated to see that look in his lover's eyes._

_He stared at her, trying to make her understand. Her eyes widened, saddened, and she nodded. She knew what he was saying. One thing or the other. Baby or brother._

_He marched up to Sam, and drained himself of his Grace._

_He'd never imagined Falling would be so satisfying._

-.-

"Cas! Dean!" He would never understand the nicknames. They sounded so familiar, so comfortable rolling off his tongue.

Sam was greeted with hugs, with smiles, with Dean's sad eyes. She always seemed so sad when he was around. He just couldn't understand why.

-.-

_Sam knew something was wrong as soon as the house came into view. It wasn't falling apart anymore. It was whole and new and clean._

_He ran up the front steps and into the house to find Castiel sitting with his head on the table. A blonde woman was sitting across from him._

_"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," he snapped, glaring at his brother. "Really?"_

_"It's ok, Sammy," Dean said, smiling as if he hadn't just undone all of Sam's hard work. "He's Falling."_

_Like that made it better. Like that made it right. Like that made it peachy._

_He shook his head. "No."_

_"Sam-"_

_"It doesn't matter," he argued. "He can't love you."_

_Finally, _finally_, Dean got it. Sam could see it in his brother's eyes. It was wrong, and Sam wasn't giving up until it was made right again. Until Dean was _Dean_ and Cas had gone back to sitting on a cloud and everything was normal again. Just the two of them. A small, miserable, fractured family._

-.-

He could hear her crying sometimes at night. Dean. Deanna. Cas' wife of five years. The mother of a miracle nicknamed Mary.

Apparently, they hadn't been expecting kids. He'd asked Cas about it once, was informed of a messy miscarriage and a fear of trying again. Mary was their only child, and, as far as Sam knew, she was going to stay that way.

Still, he could hear Dean crying sometimes. He rolled off of the couch and padded across the dark living room, past the stairs leading up to the loft that acted as Miracle's bedroom, and to the door of the room that Dean and Cas shared.

He opened the door a crack and peaked in. Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed with Cas' arm wrapped around her shoulders.

"I miss him," she whispered. "It's like he's here, but he's not the same."

"I know," her husband replied, running fingers through her hair. "But it's for the best."

"Yeah. I get that, but… I just always wanted my brother to be at my wedding, you know? To stand up there with me… to be there when his niece was born. He's missed so much, and I worry about him being out on his own."

Sam frowned. That didn't make sense. As far as he knew - as far as he'd been _told_ - Dean's brother had died in the war, fighting off the Apocalypse. That was why they'd bonded. That was why they'd become such good friends, wasn't it? He'd lost his brother, and Dean had lost his… _her_ brother, too.

He didn't know why he slipped like that sometimes. Why he had dreams of fighting with Dean over Cas' true intentions. Why, in his dreams, he kept referring to Dean as his brother. She obviously wasn't.

Obviously.

She was Deanna Godsend. She was a wife and a mother, a mechanic and a hunter. She was a woman.

She was happy, even if she cried sometimes. Even if she always looked so sad when he came around. She was happy, overall. He could tell. He could feel it.

So he ignored his dreams, and that little nagging voice in the back of his head telling him that something was wrong. He walked back to the couch and laid down. Tomorrow, he would celebrate Christmas with his family.

-.-

_The angel stood and stared at him. _

_Sam stared back._

-.-

And they would all be happy, forever after.


End file.
